Arnav-Khushi FF||No Second Chances CH5 pg 13

No second Chances

Day 30- Prologue

Emerging out of his shiny office doors, Arnav covers his head with his palm and skips to his car, trying to avoid letting the rain spoil his suit as much as he can. He hears the beep of his car and quickly bangs the door, shuffling into his seat. Letting out a sigh, he gets ready to go home.

Another day, drawing close to an end.

He glances at the time and curses. He was not supposed to be late today.

As he drives towards his 4-bedroom apartment, he passes the route to Raizada Mansion and like every day, becomes thoughtful. He thinks about his decision to leave home to give Di her privacy when she had just begun her married life with Aman. He recalls an angry Aman and Di protesting till their lungs gave out. He recalls Akash and Payal following his footsteps, and Mami going to US to finally annoy her beloved husband. He remembers NK going back to Sydney, and the teary farewell before it. He wonders whether he broke his family with his decision, but he is reminded every day that he did it for his sister's happiness, and truly, she was happy. And this wasn't a case where the broken bits of the family never bother to come together again, Di would never allow that.

He finally reaches his 5-storeyed building and absently smiles to see Akash's car parked right next to his spot- a reassurance that life is still the same. He runs to his lobby and makes it into the lift in nick of time. The 5^th floor arrives sooner that he had wanted, and he begs the creative juices in his mind to help him for once with a plausible excuse.

Knock, knock. He raps at the door.

He frowns at the denial of his anticipated response, and for the first time in the 6 months of apartment bliss, employs the key he had made for emergencies, which had rusted in the confines of his wallet.

He comes home to a half-lit living room, with blown out scented candles and half-eaten food on the dining table, and most of all, an enraged wife seated still on the leather couch, her back to him, and he swears he can feel her body shivering with sobs.

Recklessly dropping his briefcase to one side, he rushes by her side to see her eyes shut firmly, a recent development in the contours of her face as a result of the sound of his loafers clicking against the wood panelling. For a minute or two, the room is filled with deafening silence, and suddenly he feels an urge to break the looming tension with words.

"It's only 10 yet."

Her eyes fly wide open, and the threatening fury in the woman's eyes gives him chills. He wills himself to maintain his composure lest this fight may get out of hand even before a few words. She retaliates.

"Only 10 yet- only 10- What is wrong with you, Arnav Bloody Raizada? I have been waiting, waiting like a doorman patiently for 3 hours, and this is when you show up, and you don't have the least decency to beg for forgiveness?"

"Have I ever had it, Khushi?" he asks, tilting his head.

Her eyes brim with tears again. "It's our anniversary Arnav. 6 years ago you married me- though not conventionally, but that day holds a lot of importance to me, and if you can't understand that- well, there is no other option but for you to try and comprehend the magnitude of this day. Anyways-"

"Don't say it." He says with his head down, but with conviction, effectively shutting her up. He shudders at his prediction of the impact of what she would have said.

"Look Khushi, we still have 2 hours of this anniversary left. It matters equally to me. I know I'm late, and I know I should've come earlier, but what time has gone has gone. Can't we make something out of this remaining time?"

Then suddenly, Khushi breaks down, rolling into a ball and letting down hot tears from her bloodshot eyes, the loudness of her sobs increasing exponentially. Her action shocks him momentarily, but he is quick to wrap his arms around her lean figure, allowing her to release herself in his grip, releasing her tears on the crisp shirt.

"I'm sorry." He whispers genuinely.

She looks up, smiles through the tears and nods her head, and he knows they'll be fine.

-----------------

They're dining amongst the blooming roses in his mother's precious garden, a 5-minute drive away from their apartment. In nightclothes, it isn't as perfect as she would have wanted, but he allows himself to believe in her assurance.

They eat their food- spaghetti with paneer balls (who said Italian and Indian don't mix well?)- In mirth, laughing over insignificant things. She tells him stories from her childhood that she had never divulged with him before, and enjoys the widening of his eyes and the crinkle that accompanies his laughter.

"You are my life, Arnav." She says to herself and smiles inwardly. Then bravely, she holds his hand and whispers, "I love you."

His smile is filled with pride as he kisses the back of her hand and says, "I would have said it back but I think you already know my response."

She chuckles. "I know, but it's good to reassure each other once in a while."

"Well then, I love you too." He says dreamily, and revels in the pleasure of knowing that he can make her cheeks redden even today, when a realization dawns her.

Her face now solemn, she asks him the question, the answer to which had been pinching him throughout the length of this day, It pierces his heart to hear it from her, but seeing the courageous smile she has managed to plaster on her face, he returns her a mournful smile and answers truthfully, "I'm afraid so."

All the way back home and throughout a dreary night, Arnav replays her question again and again and again until his head pounds from the torture.

"This is our last anniversary, isn't it?"

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Day 1- Plans of Genesis

00:00 hrs.

As the clock chimes indicating the beginning of midnight, Khushi Kumari Gupta Singh Raizada turns in her bed to check the truth in her husband's promise to wrap up work by the present time. Her hands grope around an empty bed, and she lazily yawns, steps out of her comfortable position and drags herself into the living room, where a pale yellow light is still glowing, giving company to the bluish glow of the laptop. The smell of steaming coffee teases her senses and she makes her way to the Adirondack where her husband is slouched. Slightly touching his back, she waits for him to recoil in surprise, but he stays still and distractedly mumbles a "Hi".

"Come to bed, will you?" she pleads, positioning herself between the laptop and its user. He shakes his head negatively and pulls her into his lap, and after little resistance she settles herself and rakes her fingers through his messy hair.

"I told you, I have work." He reasons and goes back to analysing another design.

"Yes, so I have been told more than once, but you won't get any work done in such a state." Her hand brushes against his forehead, and after feeling some heat, she places her fingers against it again.

"Arnav, you're so hot." She exclaims in concern, her features turning into a frown.

"Well, thank you-" he begins but is sharply cut off by her. "Arnav, you have fever. Please come back to bed. I'll tell Akash or Aman to do it, you come with me."

"No, Khushi I'm sorry, but this is urgent. I'm fine, really. I've been feeling under the weather for a week or two now." He says but immediately regrets it.

"A week? And you didn't bother to tell me? Seriously, what is wrong with you? March right into bed now Mr Raizada, or you're going to have a very angry wife on your hands now." She sternly commands, feeling upset about having neglected her husband's ill health.

"We can't have that, can we now?" he chuckles and obediently shuts his laptop, meaning to wake up and finish his work once his concerned wife would fall asleep. With his wife in tow, he enters his bedroom and tucks himself under the comforter, but pulls it off immediately.

"What's the matter?" she says, noticing him as she takes out a thermometer.

"Just a little hot, that's all." He reassures her but takes off his shirt for good measure.

"Really? I'm actually cold."

"You could cuddle with me if you want." He winks at her and lightens up at the smile on her face.

"And catch something from you? I'd rather not." She playfully winks back and proceeds to sit next to him, tucking the thermometer in his mouth. "See, I can always shut you up." She jokes, trying to comfort herself more than him.

"Now that you are quiet, I wanted to discuss something Arnav." She keeps her gaze to the ground and plays with the ends of her dupatta in anxiety.

He nudges her to continue.

"Well, do you remember that office celebration of yours we went to last week?"

He nodded affirmatively, smiling at the memory of dancing with his wife confidently as his employees stood shell-shocked.

"I met a lot of women there, and they kept telling what a handsome couple we are, and why we hadn't started a family yet, and," she clears her throat, "It got me thinking."

"We've been married for almost 6 years now, Arnav. I know you're afraid of being a good father, but you were afraid of being a good husband too, and look at how that turned out."

"It's an irrational fear Arnav, and it has to go, because I do want a baby, and soon. Don't you remember the promise you made?"

-------------------

As Arnav adjusts the lapels of his jet black Armani tuxedo and fixes his Windsor knot, he descends the stairs rapidly, his leather shoes shining in perfection, clicking against the pristine marble. His guests applaud his arrival, making him the centre of attraction. Exuding confidence and inspiring awe- just the way he wanted himself to turn out. He urges them to continue their previous activities and looking around with a satisfied smirk, he turns to the balcony to get some air. Though he organises this party himself, he always feels ill-at-ease with the invitees. He leans over and looks at the road filled with cars and hopes to see his own arriving soon.

"Ah, Arnav." He hears the mention of his name and turns with a smile.

"Aman, enjoying yourself?" he asks, carefully folding his arms back and leaning against the railing.

"Oh yes, very much. A welcome change from the torture you put me through. " he replies, slowly twirling the Chardonnay in his glass.

"We both know how much you love a challenge, Aman," Arnav justifies. "Besides, I pay you a butt load of money; it's only fair that I take my money's worth."

"Great, you do know I can quit anytime I want?" he points out, waggling his eyebrows playfully.

"I know you can. I also know you wouldn't." he says with a smirk of satisfaction. "FYI, I just had a conference call with the Japanese clients- looks like we might have clinched the deal." He takes a glass of red wine himself, and scans the banquet hall for a certain someone.

"You smooth talker, you." Aman nudges him but instantly shifts his gaze to behind Arnav's shoulder, taking in a deep breath. "W- Wow." He stammers out.

He can feel her behind him, the effect she has on men at large giving her away. With a knowing smile, he twists his head and leans back, taking in her sight. With tiny, nimble steps, she waltzes in, her hazel eyes taking in the majesty of the room. He notices the way her eyes light up when they meet the chandelier, with all its brilliance and shine, quite like the woman herself. She looks amazing in the golden sari which he had picked out carefully to suit her taste- the 'chamkili' inside her could never die- yet look sophisticated enough to impress the guests. And then she finds him, satisfying him with a wider smile and hopping towards him. His goddess; the Desdemona to his Othello- how he had doubted her, troubled her, hurt her, wronged her- all when she loved him so deeply, so purely; how did she find the heart to forgive him, when he himself hadn't been kind enough to do so?

"Oh Arnav, here you are, that's a relief." Her arm loops around his, and his dazed smile is wiped off, exchanged for a more genuine one.

"She's-" Aman exclaims, realizing the implications of her actions.

"-Khushi, my fianc. Khushi, meet Aman. My right hand."

"So, she's-"

"Yes." Arnav finishes.

Khushi politely extends her arm out and finds it being shaken vigorously.

"Nice to meet you ma'am." He smiles nervously and the smile falters when he observes Arnav's befuddled expression, excuses him and lunges for another Chardonnay.

Arnav indulges in the newly found privacy and wraps his arms around his fianc's slender, bare waist. She returns his action with a light slap, but finds herself reluctantly turning around to face him, her arms resting on his strong squared shoulders.

"Great arrangements Raizada." She whispers. "I'm impressed."

He flashes her his trademark smirk. "I aim to impress the likes of you, Ms Gupta, which, if I may add, are as rare as the Phoenix."

"A little snarky there, aren't you?"

"I'd say poetic." He grins.

"So what story did you tell your employees?" she asks with lowered eyes and a knowing smile.

He hides a grin and pulls a frown. "What story?"

"About how we got engaged."

"Oh that- not much. Just that I met you in a fashion show; got you pregnant the next day and we had to elope."

"WHAT?" she exclaims, her hands pushing his firm chest. Numerous heads turn in their direction.

Quickly releasing her, Arnav turns to lean against the railing. "Yes." He says with conviction. "They were pestering me, and I was bored. Besides, it came as quite the shock and pleasure to the employees that the ever-perfect Arnav Singh Raizada could ever toy with a young, beautiful lady such as you. I was just fuelling their suspicions that there might be a wild side to me."

"So you went ahead and defiled my image? The to-be first lady of AR- your future wife?" she screams in anger.

"Of two days, may I remind you. Jeez, would you loosen up? They are going to find out eventually that you aren't pregnant." He explains with a flourish.

"-and think that I aborted her. You just made me a child-killer Arnav!" she stares into oblivion, her eyes widened with the deepest fear. Arnav chuckles at the exaggeration and takes her hand, squeezing it tightly. "Oh, the goddesses are never going to forgive me for this." She mutters incoherently to herself.

"Hey, if it bothers you so much, I'll clear it out tomorrow." Her eyes soften at this, and she turns to him with a smile. "I'll tell them the truth that you and I met at a fashion show; I tortured you for two years, married you forcefully, divorced you, fell in love with you and finally proposed."

"Thank you." She says genuinely, failing to comprehend the hinted sarcasm. "

He nods in acknowledgement and begins observing his guests merrily laughing under the influence. Then, Khushi's words strike him and he jerks his head towards her to see her playing with her wedding ring.

"You said she."

The broken silence causes her to lift her head up from her activity. After taking a moment to remember the reference, she says, "So?"

"You want a daughter?" he asked, dazed.

"We all have preferences." She admits reluctantly. "Why, do you want a baby now?" she teases.

"Well, not now, so to speak. In exactly 6 years." he says nonchalantly.

"Huh." She raises her eyebrows. "Never thought I'd hear that." After a pause, she asks solemnly, "You're not drunk or high, are you?"

A rumble resounds from his chest, and he takes in the beautiful tinkling laughter that joins him. She looks ethereal, almost as if a figment of his imagination. Impulsively, he grabs her hand and drags her out of the balcony through the door. "Where are we going?" she asks innocently, letting her body go light under his touch and dragging it along with him.

"We're going to elope." He says it with ease, and Khushi decides to play along.

"Well, what about Di?"

"She'll understand. I need to make you mine as soon as possible." He says, fumbling for his car keys.

She tugs at his hand to make him turn around, glances into his caramel brown eyes, and sees his love, his urgency and impatience. Her lips curve up involuntarily.

"Okay." She says, intertwining her fingers with his.

Good times, he recalls with a smile. The outcry at home of what a heinous crime they had committed, and how oblivious they were of having committed such a crime.

"Well, I infer from your smile that you do remember. So think over it now."

A smile playing on her lips at the memory, she pulls out the thermometer and the level of mercury makes her feel alarmed and ashamed at the same time. "On the other hand, I think we can think about this a little later too." She pushes him down and her puzzled husband snatches the thermometer, shrugs at the reading and caves under the pressure on his arm, lying back on the feathery pillow.

"It's not half as bad as it seems, Khushi. I'm fine, really."

"But you're not leaving this bed for the day." She frowns and lies down next to him.

"I have to go-"

"But you're not. You get me? Goodnight, Arnav." She says, taking one final view of the ceiling as she shuts her eyelids, feeling sleep overtake her.

His response is inaudible, but a few minutes later, her sleep is broken yet again.

"Let's do it."

"What?" she asks, snapping her eyes open and turning to look at him. He turns over to face her and says, "Let's have a baby. Only one please, I don't like crowds. A girl, maybe- yes, definitely a girl." He says it with such nonchalance that it takes her a while to register his words and interpret what they mean for the future- a family, and one with Arnav. When she begins to comprehend, she barely hides her glee and throws her arms around her husband in haste, pressing herself against his strong muscular physique. One arm trapped between their bodies, Arnav graciously wraps the other one around her, running his hands through the brown cascade of hair. Without bothering to pull away, she asks, "This is not just because you're sick, right?"

Letting out an annoyed sigh, he pulls away. "I am not sick. And you think you're the only one who thinks about our future? Am I not allowed to dream too?"

Her astonishment throws him off. "You dream about this- not about graphs and profit margins and progress reports, but our baby?"

He has learnt in the six years of a partially stable and completely blissful marriage that the effect that Khushi has on him was something even Khushi wouldn't even believe, but he begins to understand the tone of surprise- it's barely two weeks since he has allowed himself to admit the desire for a family. For him, there can never be too many Khushis in the world.

In playful protest, he turns her back to him and withdraws from his lazy position towards her. She tugs his arm, and he finds himself unable to resist her pleas and turns towards her again, frown still plastered on his face.

"We both know you can't even pretend being angry with me." She states as a matter-of-fact.

"You think too much of yourself, Mrs Raizada." He retorts with a straight face. She finds herself drained of the strength to provide a reply and loosely placing a leg on Arnav's and looping an arm around him, she closes her droopy eyes.

"Until tomorrow, Mr Raizada." She smiles drowsily and feels her husband's lips curve against the crook of her neck as he settles himself closer to her.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

17:00 hrs.

"Good evening, Doctor." He says calmly. Dr Mehra, the family specialist smiles through his spectacles and beckons him to sit down. Taking the proffered seat, Arnav wipes the sweat off his brow.

"Arnav, welcome. Diabetes acting up again?"

"No, it's fever this time. I'm sweating a lot, especially at night."

Nodding, he takes out his sphygmomanometer. "Any lumps, pain in your armpits, neck, groin?"

"Uh, my armpit- but it's not much."

With a worried nod, he asks Arnav to take off his shirt and examines the lump. Scrunching his eyebrows with a frown, he sits down and tells Arnav. "Do you have any pain in your joints?"

"No, but I'm generally feeling weak. Is it something serious?"

"We'll run some tests, and I'll inform you in a day or two. Look Arnav, let me be honest, there's probably nothing to worry about, but these look like symptoms of Leukaemia."

He silently registers the words. Khushi's face flashes in front of him- worried, tear-stained, and miserable-a heart-breaking picture.

"Cancer, you mean?" Arnav asks, trading his calm laidback posture for a more anxious one.

"Cancer of the White Blood Cells to be precise. But I'm not sure Arnav; let's not make any assumptions right now. Let's do the tests first."

Arnav nods graciously at the reassurance and wipes his face again. Then he thinks for a moment and asks, "What do I tell Khushi?"

"Don't tell her anything just yet. She always ends up thinking about worst-case scenarios. Don't worry her more. I'm sure it'll be nothing, but even if it is, Cancer is no longer incurable."

"Hmm." Arnav says, considering Dr Mehra's words carefully. The worst-case scenario comes to his mind and he shuddered. Khushi, he said to himself, I won't leave you, I promise.

-----------------

21:00 hrs.

"Hey, I'm home." Arnav announces, trying to renew the drained energy after his eventful visit.

His wife, stirring some concoction in a pot lights up and pot forgotten, she runs into his arms, colliding against his chest. He winces in pain, but effortlessly covers it up as his wife looks up with concern.

"You're growing fat. May I suggest you stop eating the Jalebis?"

Lightly smacking him, she looks into eyes with all seriousness. "What did the doctor say?"

His smile falters, but bravely facing her, he lies, "Not much, like I had said. He gave me some medicines for the fever and told me to come back in a day or two."

Nodding to indicate she understood, she pulls away and lets him go into their bedroom and returns to the pot hurriedly, smelling the burning gravy.

Once he reaches his room, Arnav Singh Raizada unmasks his pain and sighs heavily, burying his head into his hands. This isn't supposed to happen to him- not supposed to happen to them. Hasn't he already had his fair share of problems already? And this isn't affecting him alone- he knows what impact the mere mention of Him and Cancer is going to have on her.

"Arnav, are you ready yet?" her melodious voice rings through his ears. He shouts back, "In a minute, Khush." Sighing heavily again, he slumps his way towards the living room. The food being set on the table, his wife already seated; he pulls a chair next to her and takes her hand in his. She looks angelic, tired and smeared with flour though her face may be.

"Food smells amazing. Thank you, Khushi."

"For what?" she asks, puzzled.

"For the food. Well not just for the food."

"Arnav?" she asks suspiciously.

"I just, I think I wanted to thank you for everything. For being my wife. For being mine, despite me being, well, me." He says genuinely and brings their hands to his heart.

Her hazel eyes widen with fear. "Is something wrong, Arnav?" she asks, placing her hand above his.

"No!" he quickly brushes her off and tries to hide the evident meaning of his words. "It's just that we're starting a new leg of our life together, and for whatever we have made till today, I'm grateful to you Khushi. You stuck by me through my worst times- even I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Exasperated but touched, her head finds its way to his shoulder, and resting her weight on him, she says, "Always, Arnav. Always."

The dark cloud of fear looms over them, but Arnav hopes. All he can do is hope, anyways.

Chapter 2 - Pg 3

Chapter 3 - Pg 6

Chapter 4 - Pg 10

Chapter 5 -Pg 13